free verse by pablo deferrari

I drive down this road every morning and it’s only on sunny days that I see this guy’s 964 Targa typical.

telling by his dark blue uniform stiffened by starch that he’s a mechanic at the Cadillac dealership on that street,

he seems a very neat and tidy guy unlike myselfhis hair and mustache always perfectly trimmed,he takes pride in his appearance.I could give a damn. this explains why he onlydrives his Porscheon days where dirt and grimeare least likely to find a place on his car. I’m being presumptuous, of course. but I’ve traveled down thisroadfor nearly 2 and half years...a pattern developed. I completely understand his rationale but he’s missing outon the uglier side of days. a Porsche’s personachanges.she drives differently, somehow.you seem to notice thingslike the well dressed and coiffed women waiting for the buslosing their sex appealbeneath umbrellasin a sea of beige gabardines.

there’s something mesmerizing about the rain streaming up your windshield. the wipers have a rhythmthat somehow intensifies the blurring landscapesas they go by. All this is taking place from where I’m sitting long after I’ve passed by the Dodge Dakota he drives on such days. I’ll run into himeventuallyon a bright morning.I’ll roll down my windowand say, “hey, good morning…” “that’s a beautiful Targa you’ve got there.” “now why don’t you stop being such a pussy and drive the thing in the rain.” with a beaming smile on my face, of course suggesting a bit of jest amongst owners of the breed. maybe he’ll pause for a bit, take pity on me and saywith deadpan delivery, “precisely because I don’t want my car looking old and tired like yours.” he’d make a good point.